Child of the Dawn (19 page)

"In the highlands of Tahiti? Yes," he said thoughtfully. "I remember that, too. Now, come, help me find soft leaves for abed."

Tepua enjoyed the warm recollections. How long ago that other time seemed. As she joined Matopahu in gathering ferns from the sides of the rocks, she recalled how she had spent a night with him in that other cave—the first night they had been together.
 

The memories lingered as she finished covering the grotto floor with fragrant, springy ferns. Then she watched Matopahu stretch out in the rock-sheltered nest, his eyes inviting. Moonlight filtering into the grotto gleamed on the planes of his chest, sculpted the muscles of his belly, and played down his long sinewy thighs.
 

"So many moons have passed," he said with a sigh. "Every time I saw Hina's beauty, I thought of yours. I prayed to my ancestors to keep you safe and bring you back to me."

"Perhaps they did hear you," she answered dreamily. Her fingers touched him gently, moving down the firmness of his belly, coming to rest where his
maro
was tied. He raised his hips, allowing her to unwind the loincloth and toss it aside. Her breasts felt aglow as she removed her own wrap and laid herself on top of him.
 

"Tepua," he said softly, as his arms circled her, rocking her gently. "Today, after my victory, I could think about no other woman. I only wanted to find you. Is this some trick of the gods?"
 

"To make us desire only each other?"

"Yes."

"Perhaps it is your punishment. For wanting too many different women before you found me."

He laughed. "And are you being punished for the same reason? You came to me knowing nothing of love!"

"
Nothing
? "
 

"Very little," he conceded.

"
Aue
!" She felt dizzy from desiring him. Her heartbeat seemed as loud to her as a mallet pounding bark-cloth against a board. He reached up and stroked her softly, making her feel as warm and full of light as Hina herself. The longing inside was more than she could bear.
 

Slowly he caressed her, sliding his warm hands up behind her knees and along the insides of her thighs. His fingers played over the mounds of her buttocks, moving higher, igniting whatever they touched. She heard him breathing deeply as his palms pressed warmly against her back. Then his fingers slipped around, working gently, massaging the sides of her breasts. She lifted herself, allowing his thumbs to slip under and caress the hardness of her nipples.
 

Tepua gasped with pleasure and wriggled against him. Once more she felt his hands behind her knees again, slowly moving higher. His hardness pushed against her, and she thought she could not endure any more delay. But Matopahu only sighed in his joy of holding her close to him.
 

"You are my only
vahine
," he said. "I am glad that I want no other." She felt him touch her breasts again, revolving his thumbs around each nipple, and now she felt mad with longing. She sensed his own excitement matching hers. How could he stand any more of this teasing?
 

As if in answer to her question, she felt his silky spear begin to slide into her. Crying with relief, she pushed herself up on his chest, arching her back until her legs lifted from his, and the only meeting point of their bodies was the glowing center of pleasure. She started to rock herself on that upthrust spear, letting it enter her more deeply. She felt the pulsations within the hardness of his flesh, heard him groan with delight. A new fire began to spread, coursing outward to her belly, her thighs, her breasts. The searing crests came faster, each more intense than the last.
 

A brightness surrounded her until she could see nothing else. Then she heard the great laugh of joy that she had heard only once before.
Oro
! He had spoken to her when she danced, but he had made her forget his words. Now she heard his voice again. "You are promised to a mortal man. I will be there when he comes to you."
 

Then she understood that she had both Oro and Matopahu inside her, joining her in ecstasy. She heard a voice that must have been her own, a cry of triumph or joy or pain, she could not say which. The light exploded, sending her into spasms, wave upon wave, lifting her to the sky. Then she was truly the goddess of the moon, sailing across the stars.
 

 

"
Muriroa ana hoki, te matangi
..."
 

Matopahu roused slowly from the deepest sleep he had ever known. Nearby a woman was singing softly, in a sweet haunting voice that blended against the music of the waterfall.
 

The flutter of an eyelash touched his cheek. His hands, groping in the dark, met smooth, warm skin. They traveled up, feeling the form of slender ribs, then the soft underside of a breast that felt firm as a ripe fruit....
 

She met his hand with her own, then sang again.

"
E ho ake taku aro, e he to au e
!"
 

He blinked with wonder at how her voice brought beauty to words that were so foreign to his ears. With a sigh that was half amazement, half annoyance, he said, "You know I cannot understand that atoll language of yours."
 

He heard a quiet laugh. Her fingers played about his chest as she repeated the lines in his own tongue.

 

A pleasant breeze was stirring

When I lay beside him, overcome....

 

Matopahu drew her to him, buried his face in the sweet warmth of her belly. His voice muffled, he said, "You were not the only one overcome."
 

"Then something remarkable did happen," she replied mysteriously. "I remember, long ago, how you used to fall into a trance."

He hesitated, wondering what she was hinting at. Before the curse fell on him, Matopahu had been known as a favorite of the gods. Sometimes a spirit seized him, spoke through his lips, even took control of his body, leaving him afterward with no memory of what had occurred. But nothing of the kind had happened since his brother's death. "Last night, I was myself," he declared happily. "I am happy to say that I recall every moment."
 

She began to sing again.

 

"Like a scented fern,

Bending over me,

He whispered sweetly...."

 

"I was more than a fern," Matopahu said with a laugh, clasping his hands behind his back.

Light fingers descended on his lips, pressing them gently together. She sang,

 

"Like a coconut palm,

Bending over me..."

 

"That is better," he answered. "Where did you get that song?"

"It was sung long ago by a woman of my islands to a song?' chief of Tahiti. The words were in my head when I woke up."

He let his hand stray to her thigh and then ran his fingers gently along it.

"My scented fern...My coconut palm..." Her voice was soft in the darkness.

"Mmm?"

"Will you bend over me?"

 

From the coolness and crispness of the air wafting over his skin, Matopahu knew that dawn had arrived. There seemed to be a fresh new note in the sound of the falls and the birds that called through the trees.
 

He lay with his arms about Tepua, his eyes closed, feeling sated and blissful. Yes, there was a certain newness in the air today. Perhaps the gods were telling him in another way that his strength had returned—by hinting that now he might have a son.
 

Tepua had always insisted that her dedication to the Arioi was more important than having children. Yet perhaps, now, she might relent. The thought made him shiver. He cradled the woman beside him as if she were the newborn babe he so wished to hold. Should he tell her what he felt? No. If it was true, she would find out for herself.
 

What was it to be a woman? he wondered, feeling an odd twinge of envy. What was it like to have a new life growing inside? To have a belly as great as a chief's, yet holding something far more precious than taro or breadfruit?
 

He was starting to drift into sleep again when he felt her stirring. He let his arms go lax, but kept his eyes closed, curious about what she would do now. Sing him another song again? Caress him in an exotic way? She was Tepua, but she was not the same girl who had left him. Everything she did now seemed new and exciting.
 

Yes, she was up to something, he thought as he felt her rise up to look at him. He was tempted to peek, but kept his eyes closed. He wanted to feel, not see, what she would do.
 

Her face was coming near his. Ah, the warmth, the fragrant moist breath. His limp member stirred, anticipating the next sweet encounter.
 

Her nose brushed across his cheek, but it was her lips that came actively seeking his.
Lips
? And her tongue, wiggling like a little eel, was playing about the side of this mouth.
 

He jerked his head back, away from the unfamiliar touch, but not before the velvety tip of her tongue sent a strange warm shock running down his belly, making his manhood twitch.
 

No, this was not right! The mouth was where food went, a pathway for
mana
. He hitched himself up on his elbows, guarding his face with the back of his hand. "What...what did you do?"
 

She was sitting on her heels before him in the faint dawn light, her head cocked to one side, her hair draped over her breast, her lips slightly parted. "You did not like that?" she asked, glancing down. "Your eel likes it."
 

Matopahu stared at her, the echo of that strange sensation still running through his body. Something in him wanted her to do it again, but something else remained wary. Perhaps the act was not
tapu
, but it was certainly new to him. "Why this strange caress?" he asked. "Is it some trick from your savage island?"
 

He felt uneasy, although he could not say why. It was almost as if something different, foreign, was trying to intrude on his happiness. His muscles tightened as if to spring to the defense...against what?
 

"Tepua..." He reached out and caught her hand, his thoughts turning to disturbing possibilities. "What happened when you went home? What kind of men did you find there?"
 

"I wanted to tell you," she answered quietly. "But there was no chance."

He waited, not sure if he cared to hear. Her voice carried a dreamy quality as she continued. "It seems so long ago now. Outsiders came to our atoll, men with sun-darkened faces and pale bodies beneath their peculiar clothing. They learned some of our ways and taught us a few of their own."
 

"Yes?" He gripped her arm, waiting uneasily for the rest. The dawn light was growing stronger, and Matopahu thought he saw her color slightly.
 

"The first time I felt the mouth kiss, I pulled away," she said, "just as you did. But I began to like it. I thought you would, too."
 

He felt a disturbing mixture of emotions. His delight in her was still strong, and the thought that she had meant to please him added to his affection. Yet her confession made him wonder. Had Tepua lain with one of these strangers? No. He had no right to question her or to be angry if she had. Everyone understood that men and women separated from each other took new partners.
 

The past must be forgotten, he told himself. Irritably, he tried to put aside his objections to her new form of
hanihani
.
 

"Matopahu, I did not mean for this to trouble you. You looked so happy only a short while ago."

"If you lie down beside me, you will bring the happiness back again." Obediently she curled up next to him. They rested in silence, listening to the sounds of the world waking to a new day.
 

"How long did the strangers stay on your island?" Matopahu asked.

Tepua gave a restless sigh, as if she wished to end the discussion. "You do not have to outdance another rival. I told you the men are gone."
 

"I am curious, that is all. I've heard tales about strangers from afar, and the impossible vessels that carry them. You are the only person I know who has actually seen such people."
 

"If they had stayed with us only one day, it would have been too long," she began. "I admit that I had affection for one of the men. He was kind, and even beautiful in a foreign way. He could not help the harm that he and his friend did to my people. In the end, we had to send them both away, back to their home island."
 

Matopahu lay quietly, his arms about her. Something in her voice told him of the pain she had endured, an experience that had steadied and matured her. He sensed that she would not tell him the full story yet, but perhaps in time...

The stranger, whoever he was, might be gone now, but he had left his trace. Tepua had departed Tahiti still a girl in spirit and had come back fully a woman. Matopahu wondered whether he should praise or curse this unknown, unnamed rival. Perhaps both.
 

He stirred, growing restless as the air in the grotto warmed. His affection for her was not damped, but now he felt a certain ambivalence. The blissful contentment was gone, the spell of the grotto vanishing in the brightening daylight.
 

He sighed at the loss. The night had been so sweet. Who knew when there would be another like it?

His thoughts turned to the troubles in his home district. He wondered whether he would ever be able to drive out the usurper. If not, would Tepua join him in perpetual exile? He could not ask her that yet.
 

He held her a brief while longer, until she reminded him that she would be missed by the leaders of her troupe. She arranged her wrap and tidied her hair. "This time you won't carry me," she insisted. "Show me the handholds and I will
climb
all the way down."